


Day 8: Adventures of Ratchet and Drift

by GemmaRose



Series: Lost Light Fest 2018 [8]
Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Gen, Implied Self-Neglect, Injury, Post-The Transformers: Drift - Empire of Stone
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-08
Updated: 2018-10-08
Packaged: 2019-08-14 05:12:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 742
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16486529
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GemmaRose/pseuds/GemmaRose
Summary: He’d left the Lost Light to find Drift, but somehow his mental plan had always glossed over the bit between finding him again and getting him to come back. He hadn’t thought about it much, or at all really. Hadn’t really thought that Drift would need convincing to come back to his friends. That had obviously been a mistake.





	Day 8: Adventures of Ratchet and Drift

“Well, we’ve got our work cut out for us.” Drift said dryly, optics scanning over the down and out wreck of the shuttle they’d come down in.

“That’s an understatement.” Ratchet retorted, his voice equally humourless but optics not on the shuttle at all. Instead he looked Drift up and down, mentally cataloguing his friend’s myriad scrapes and dents and how he seemed to be favouring his left leg slightly. He’d left the Lost Light to find Drift, but somehow his mental plan had always glossed over the bit between finding him again and getting him to come back. He hadn’t thought about it much, or at all really. Hadn’t really thought that Drift would need convincing to come back to his friends. That had obviously been a mistake.

“We should get started.” Drift said after a klik of examining the shuttle. “At least get the holes mostly patched up before nightfall.” he strode towards the ship, and Ratchet caught a brief flicker of pain in his field as he bent down to pick up a piece of hull from the ground.

“Not yet.” he said, checking his subspace inventory and cursing himself for leaving most of his supplies on his own ship.

“Not yet?” Drift turned to frown at him, another flicker of pain skittering through his field like stray sparks before it was hidden away.

“First, you’re going to sit down and let me give you a checkup.” he said firmly, closing the distance between them.

“Ratchet, I’m fine.” Drift rolled his optics, stepping back in what Ratchet was sure was meant to look more like annoyance than avoidance. “This planet’s got something like two days to a mega-cycle though and we’re already over half-”

Ratchet reached out and grabbed Drift by the elbow, tight enough to squeeze the servo within that he’d heard complaining earlier. Drift ex-vented with a sharp hiss, and Ratchet let him yank his arm away as pain flared bright in his field. “I’m giving you a check-up.” he said firmly, and watched Drift weigh his options.

“Can we at least get the ship patched first?” the speedster asked, but the cant of his finials spoke clearly to how much he expected plea that to actually work. Ratchet held his gaze another few nano-kliks, and Drift’s shoulders dropped as he sighed heavily. “Fine.” he huffed, and tossed the chunk of hull plating down against the side of the ship. “Where do you want me to sit?”

“The pilot’s seat will do.” he gestured for Drift to go first, and followed him through the fairly well wrecked interior of the shuttle to the cockpit area. The pilot’s seat spun under Drift’s hand, and Ratchet watched as he fell into it. There was little of Drift’s usual grace in his movements, and combined with the servo noises and his general disrepair Ratchet couldn’t help but worry about what sort of damage was hiding under that battered, filthy plating.

“Open up.” he said, spooling out his diagnostic cable. Drift made a face like he wanted to complain, but looked aside and did as he was told. His medical port, thankfully, was still clean and free of any rust or corrosion. Ratchet plugged in, initiating a full scan, and grimaged as the results scrolled over his HUD. “Primus, Drift. When’s the last time you got a proper night’s recharge?” he muttered as his optics caught on an alert for chronic low energy.

“You’re one to talk.” Drift muttered, gaze fixed on the wall, and Ratchet’s plating bristled slightly. A smirk slipped across Drift’s face, just for a nano-klik, and Ratchet sighed.

“You also need to oil your joints, refresh your coolant and brake fluid, and a cycle in the washrack wouldn’t hurt.” he said brusquely, unplugging his cable once the scan finished. There was more to be done, like a full physical to make sure rust hadn’t set in around any of the self-done welds, but he didn’t have the tools for that right now.

“You say that like I’ve got any of that stuff wi-” Drift stopped mid-word and groaned, dropping his helm into his hand. “Of course you have supplies.”

“Yes, but first things first you need to wash up.” Ratchet held out a hand, and Drift stared at him for a nano-klik before laughing.

“You say that like this thing had a functioning washrack at any point.” he grinned, field smug. Ratchet cuffed him upside the helm.


End file.
